I can feel it watching me, it's black eyes drilling a hole into my skull. I can sense its smirk and it's gaze. It's taking everything I have not to turn around. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the noise from the hair drier. I continue to hold the drier on one spot for too long, ignoring the burning sensation. I should be use to this by now. I except it, yes. But use to it I will never be. I mean, who actually gets use to your reflection staring at you when you turn away?
YOU ARE READING
creepshow (wattys2018)
HorrorHe's watching me. That's all he ever does. He stands on the other side of the glass and stares at me. He brings his friends and they join him in the pointing. They tap their fingers against the glass at me, the noise filling my ears, causing my worl...
